


Overly Enthusiastic

by lord_squiggletits (megatrons_mouth_laser)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Bottom Megatron, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom, Reverse Knotting, Rough Sex, Smut with Humor, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Stubborn Idiot Shenanigans, Wet & Messy, accidental sexual injury, lots of fluids, mild crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26047159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megatrons_mouth_laser/pseuds/lord_squiggletits
Summary: Megatron could be very persuasive even in Optimus’ strongest moments, and at the moment he wasn’t thinking with anything but his spike.
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime
Comments: 10
Kudos: 186
Collections: Favorite Bookmarks 1





	Overly Enthusiastic

"Again?"

Megatron blew out a long trail of steam from his mouth, helm still lolling sideways on the berth from the force of his fourth overload. "Again," he gasped.

Optimus looked down at where he was cradling Megatron's hips in his lap with both hands. The biolights around the valve rim were still shining strong and even, and his node was glowing so bright that it actually left an after-image in Optimus optics when he looked back up at Megatron's face.

Megatron growled and shifted his weight back on his elbows, then used that as leverage to throw his legs back around Optimus' hips. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not anywhere near my limit. Keep fragging me. Hard!"

Optimus wondered if he should start fearing for the safety of his spike instead of worrying about Megatron’s valve.

But his partner was needy and willing and driving his heels into his lower back, so Optimus forgot his concern and thrust into Megatron hard, still chasing after an overload of his own.

Megatron's fingers contorted, scraping and twisting against the surface of the berth. "Yes. Yes! Like that. Just like--" And then his words fell away into a loud moan as Optimus leaned over him, still clamping his hips between his hands as hard as he could, and pounded his valve.

Optimus had his helm nestled between Megatron's neck and shoulder, so the other's moans and gasps went directly into his audials. Really, even with all the hot slickness of Megatron's valve-- and that was very, very good-- Optimus felt like he could overload to the sound of his lover's voice alone. He shifted Megatron's hips and thrust at a higher angle, and Megatron practically keened, a completely involuntary, out of control pitch that Optimus had never, ever heard him make before. 

The hot rush of overload overcame Optimus before he could even think to stop it. His hips stuttered; he was too incoherent to do more than grind his spike in tiny spasms as he released charge and transfluid inside Megatron.

He was saying something, but Optimus couldn't hear what it was over the haze of post-overload. He wanted to please Megatron, he really did. But it wouldn't hurt for him to just...just wait for a few seconds...

"Optimus," he finally heard, and though Megatron's voice crackled slightly with unreleased charge, he still managed to speak with dry arrogance like he was sitting on a throne rather than impaled on Optimus' spike and crushed beneath him. "Get on your back."

Optimus let out a growl of his own and bit at Megatron's neck cables before he remembered himself. He nuzzled at the slight indent in the cables apologetically before bracing himself up, lifting Megatron by the shoulders as he did, letting the sheer force of momentum flip them the rest of the way until his back hit the berth with a slightly painful thud.

Not that he cared about that at all with Megatron straddling his waist, his valve still trembling with unreleased charge. He was gratified to see that Megatron was actually slumped over, and he had to brace his hands right below Optimus' windshields to keep himself upright. The sight and sensations were enough to make his spike pressurize again, though at this point he was wondering if he even had any more transfluid in his tanks to give to Megatron.

"Heh." Megatron finally straightened and looked down at Optimus. He was literally looking down his nose at him, but the smirk on his face was softened by the fondness in his optics.

"What's so funny, Megatron?"

"Such a tender lover, worrying so much about my frame," Megatron said, and his voice was only halfway mocking as he dragged his fingertips sensuously over the ridges in Optimus' abdomen. "But it’s my turn now. I have something I want to show you."

Optimus raised a brow ridge, but didn't have time to do much else before Megatron leaned forward and took his mouth in...a surprisingly gentle kiss, moving slowly and carefully, as if he was just feeling out the shape of Optimus' lips. Then Megatron sucked his bottom lip between his own and nibbled slightly, and Optimus sighed, bringing his hands up to stroke at the seams of Megatron's waist, then down to his thighs.

Megatron pulled away slowly enough that a thin, glistening stream of lubricant still connected their lips for a moment before he straightened fully. He was grinning now, an expression of devious promise. "Don't think about anything except me, Optimus.” The purr in those words made every servo in Optimus body whirr in excitement, which just made Megatron chuckle again.

Then he shifted, bracing his feet wider and angling his hips so that Optimus could see his entire valve, the dark rim stretched wide around the brighter colors of Optimus' spike. He could see the way Megatron's valve lubricant dribbled slightly down the ridges of his spike every time his lover moved slightly. In fact, there was lubricant practically everywhere: smeared all over the inside of Megatron's thighs, dripping down his aft, even a few stray splatters all the way on his hip plating and abdomen.

Optimus moaned desperately and thrust up into Megatron's valve, processor completely helpless to the wild desire of his frame.

"No, no, no, Optimus. Stop moving." The sudden command was enough to break Optimus' reverie. He held himself still, gasping, and squeezed the black plating around Megatron's hips to ground himself.

"Yes. Be still." Megatron tapped Optimus' hip, then demanded, "Pressurize your spike the rest of the way."

Because the truth was, most of the time Optimus didn't extend his spike all the way. It was already substantial in girth, and adding the entirety of its length on top of that was, well, too much for every other partner he had ever had.

Optimus didn't utter a word of protest; he released his spike the rest of the way as Megatron commanded.

Megatron's optics widened and his lips parted on an involuntary, soft cry as Optimus' spike pressed into him all at once. There was no pain in that cry, only pleasure, so Optimus kept himself from stroking and crooning something reassuring to his lover. His optics flickered between devouring the expression on Megatron’s face and watching each ridge of his spike slide deeper into his dripping valve.

Megatron bowed over again and ground his hips against Optimus’, steam puffing out of his mouth steadily. Optimus could feel the slight strain in his callipers as they readjusted. However, it didn't take long for them to settle, and Megatron sat up proudly once more. His chest was puffed out, his feet shifted on the berth, and Optimus took a deep breath-- Megatron was about to make his move--

He slid his hand down to his valve and stroked the rim back and forth, two fingers on either side of where Optimus' spike was stretching him wide. Optimus didn't realize how long he had been staring until he looked back up into Megatron's face.

His optics were narrow, but his smile was wide and turned up higher on one end, assured and confident. "Hold onto the berth, Optimus. And don’t let go until I tell you."

_ I'm slagged.  _ Optimus reached blindly above him until he felt cool metal bars under his fingertips. He clenched them, grip already shaking.

"I've wanted to frag you for a long time, Optimus Prime. Did you know that?" Megatron's fingers went higher on the next stroke up his valve lips, all the way to his node to give it a quick circle before sliding back down. "I would sit in my berth just like this and think about you writhing under me, crying my name, too pleasured to even think about escape while I used you for overload after overload."

Optimus felt like if his processor glitched any more, he might have a spark attack. He didn't know whether to watch Megatron's hand or his face or just offline his optics and take it, just like Megatron was saying. His valve panel actually vibrated slightly; Megatron gave a dark chuckle at that, but he didn't do anything except reach back and pull Optimus' legs up until they bent at the knee and braced against his back.

"But that was the past, when all I had was my imagination and whatever cheap  _ imitations  _ I could get my hands on." Megatron squeezed hard around Optimus and he moaned helplessly.

"Now I have you under me. So tender, so desperate to please me. But still..." Megatron ground his hips in a circle. "Do you want to know what I liked to do myself while I thought of you?"

_ "Megatron!" _

Megatron groaned, low and long like it came from his entire body. "My name in your mouth, yes, say it just like that. Well, Optimus? Do you want to see how I fragged myself to thoughts of you until I couldn't overload again for weeks?"

Optimus was making some kind of incoherent noise; he forced the words out through static, crying out, "Y...yes, please, Megatron, yes!"

Megatron pulled his fingers away from his valve and licked the lubricant off with long strokes and twists of his tongue, smiling. Optimus trembled.

Then Megatron reached back and braced his hands on Optimus' knees, leveraged himself up, and thrust down so hard his aft clanged against Optimus' hips.

"OPTIMUS!" Megatron shouted. He lifted up and pounded down again, and again, throwing his head back and crying, "Nnn-- ah, Op-- Optimus! Frag...me...frag me! Harder, harder, harder!"

And he thrust down impossibly faster, his valve making obscenely wet noises as he pistoned up and down, flecks of lubricant splattering onto Optimus' abdomen and windshields with every thrust. Megatron moaned, his helm still tilted back all the way to the ceiling, and Optimus desperately wished he could see what his lover's face looked like so uninhibited.

It didn’t take long for Optimus to overload under the onslaught of Megatron’s valve and voice. Megatron didn’t even hesitate while Optimus was bucking underneath him; he just grinned and and overloaded seconds after, his scream muffled by how hard he had his teeth clenched. Optimus didn’t have the processor space to cling to more than a few seconds at a time after that; it was all a haze of clinging to the bedframe like his life depended on it while Megatron overloaded himself again and again.

One time he actually let go, unable to stop himself from reaching out when he saw how Megatron’s legs were beginning to tremble, only to have Megatron growl and slap his hands away.

“Please,” Optimus whined. “I want to touch you.”

Megatron huffed a laugh, then put his hands over Optimus’ and pressed down hard. He leaned down and murmured into Optimus’ audial, “Your spike is  _ mine. I  _ get to decide how to use your frame.” He punctuated his words with a slick slide down the spike, breathing hard against Optimus’ neck.

Optimus interlaced their fingers and squeezed. “Kiss me?”

“Hmph. I indulge you too much, you know.” Nevertheless, Megatron lifted himself on the next upward motion and slotted his mouth against Optimus’. The kissing was as messy as the fragging: Optimus gasping and pressing as close as he could, mouth open to Megatron’s tongue tangling with his until their combined lubricant was dripping from the corners of his mouth. Optimus overloaded again, too overwhelmed by the kissing and the slower, teasing pace Megatron was riding him.

Megatron pulled away and sat back up, letting go of one of Optimus’ hands so he could reach down and run his fingers over Optimus’ spike. “You’re filthy, Prime,” he crooned. “That’s just the way I like you.” His fingers were soon slicked with a mess of lubricant and transfluid, and with an expectant smirk he held them out in front of Optimus’ lips.

His engine revved, and he swallowed hard to clear his own mouth of lubricant before he tipped his head up and took Megatron’s fingers in his mouth, sucking and lapping the digits fervently.

“Yes,” Megatron breathed. “Once I’m done with your spike, I’m going to use your mouth, and you’ll lick me clean just like that, won’t you?”

Optimus moaned and tipped his head up, taking Megatron’s fingers in his mouth all the way to his knuckles.

Megatron shuddered. His fingers went rigid, pinning Optimus’ tongue to the bottom of his mouth as he arched his back and overloaded. “Good,” he gasped. “Now touch me.”

Optimus could feel the trembling in Megatron’s struts as he guided his hands to his hips. He moved Megatron up and down slower than before, but made sure to punctuate every downward pull with a thrust of his own hips, filling Megatron’s tight valve all the way up.

Megatron pulled his fingers out of Optimus’ mouth and went for his node, making small frantic noises every few strokes.

Optimus smiled, drunk on pleasure. “Beautiful,” he panted, and pulled Megatron down for another hard thrust.

  
  
  


Some time later, Optimus woke up from temporary stasis to find Megatron slumped over him, his helm nestled against Optimus’ neck cables. His breath was hot against the ticklish cables, and when Optimus refocused his optics, he could see faint puffs of steam rising into the air before dissipating.

“Megatron?” Optimus stroked up and down the other’s back kibble in reassurance for both himself and his lover.

“Nngh. Optimus.” Megatron’s voice was low, grating slightly on the edges in obvious exhaustion. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, fine,” he mumbled. Megatron pushed himself upright with a heavy grunt and sat back, still sitting on Optimus’ spike. Even without the direct contact, Optimus could still feel ghostly imprints of heat on his chassis in the same shape as Megatron’s plating.

Oh, but his valve felt so  _ good _ . It was so hot and wet, and squeezing down on Optimus in  _ exactly _ the right way. He hadn’t quite reached his overload yet-- it was harder for him to reach the peak from the sort of unrelenting pounding he had been giving Megatron-- and he couldn’t help but arch up into the cradle of Megatron’s hips.

Megatron shuddered, optics offline and teeth gritted.

“Megatron, what’s wrong?” The nearness of Optimus’ overload faded instantly in importance; something was wrong, his partner needed something.

He didn’t answer for almost an entire minute. The earlier lack of inhibition was gone; Megatron sat very stiffly upright, not moving the lower half of his body at all, and he had his face turned away. Optimus heard the faint whine of his jaw servo grinding. Then he onlined his optics and glared at the far wall.

“My valve is malfunctioning. I’m stuck.”

Optimus stared at Megatron’s face. Then he looked down to their joined equipment. And back up at Megatron.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Megatron muttered. He splayed his hand over Optimus’ face and turned him away. “This is absolutely ridiculous.”

Optimus immediately turned his head back when Megatron let go of his face. “Are you injured? Is there any pain?”

“Pain, no. Just...overstimulated.” He made as if to move away, and immediately his frown shifted from concentration to alarm. All he succeeded in was tugging at their equipment; he couldn’t even move his aft more than an inch or two from Optimus’ hips.

_ Oh no. _ Optimus couldn’t fight a squirm as Megatron’s valve clenched and relaxed minutely around his spike. It was the gentlest of teases and...and that was exactly the sort of act that drove Optimus wild in the berth, but  _ now was not the time-- _

“You’re going to overload, aren’t you?”

Optimus refused to make eye contact with Megatron. That dry, knowing tone was certainly insufferable, but it wasn’t enough to dampen his arousal. Megatron’s valve had a near death-grip on his spike; the more he thought about it, Optimus wondered if depressurizing his spike would even allow him to pull out. Anyways, he couldn’t begin to think of something unappealing or disgusting with Megatron still straddling him, seated to the hilt on his fully extended spike, his entire lower half still covered in a sticky mess of lubricant and transfluid. In fact, it was more pleasant to let his optics go unfocused and remember the way Megatron had screamed through his last several overloads…

His spike twitched, and so did Megatron at even that smallest of movements. Optimus stroked at his hip plating and mumbled something apologetic.

“Well, since I’m already here…” Megatron started rocking back and forth, generating just enough friction to have Optimus panting with his charge as it cycled up.

“Are you  _ sure  _ you’re not--”

He put his hands over Optimus’ and pressed them down harder. “Come on, Optimus. Stop worrying about it and overload for me.” 

Megatron could be very persuasive even in Optimus’ strongest moments, and at the moment he wasn’t thinking with anything but his spike. He rocked up into Megatron mindlessly, easily melding with the other’s rhythm, cooling fans spinning faster with the heat building in his array until he let out a strangled cry and overloaded.

_ “Fragging hell!” _ Megatron hissed, bucking up from Optimus’ hips only to be stopped by the continued malfunctioning of his valve. “Dammit! Slagging--” and he spat obscenities so severe that Optimus’ processor immediately shunted them out of long-term memory storage in order to maintain what remained of his innocence. Not that he was thinking about much else besides the bitter, burning shame of seeking his own pleasure while his partner was in such a state.

Optimus sat up with great effort and wrapped his arms around Megatron, humming and whispering soothingly as Megatron’s spasms calmed down.

Megatron groaned, then was silent and still for so long that Optimus briefly wondered if he had gone unconscious. Then: “Fuck.”

Optimus jerked up at the sound of the Earth obscenity and met Megatron’s optics in disbelief. “You are definitely not okay.”

Megatron rolled his eyes. “So you noticed.”

That brought back the shame. Optimus rested his helm against Megatron’s chest and mumbled, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that to you.”   
  


“ _ You _ didn’t do anything. I was the only one even moving, and it was  _ my _ idea.” With his cheek pressed against Megatron’s chest, Optimus could feel the grumpy revv of Megatron’s engines that accompanied his words.

“...Maybe we should call Ratchet?” Optimus offered cautiously.

“No. Absolutely not.” Megatron crossed his arms defensively, and in another mech the look in his optics might have been fear. “I am  _ not _ going to be seen in this state.”

“Ratchet takes patient confidentiality very--”

“No!”

It was getting very hard for Optimus to remain soothing for his lover, but when did Megatron ever make life easy for him? “Okay, then how do you suggest we take care of this?” He gestured with exasperation at their conjoined arrays.

Megatron glared up at the ceiling. “We wait it out, obviously.”

Optimus sighed, resigned. Waiting it out  _ was  _ actually the best idea; perhaps it would give Megatron enough cooling-down time to come to his senses and realize that asking for help wouldn’t kill him. “Well, while we’re  _ waiting it out _ , could we take a shower at some point in the near future? Such as right now?”

“And how do you plan on getting us there?”   
  


Optimus gave Megatron a look. “By walking?”

Megatron knocked Optimus’ shoulder. “You’re not carrying me  _ anywhere _ .”

“Oh, very well. Perhaps sitting here and twiddling our thumbs on this extremely dirty berth would be more relaxing than a hot shower.”

“Sometimes I like you better when you shut up, Prime.”

“It’s Prime now, hm?” Optimus rotated until his legs dangled off the edge of the berth. “Bold words for the mech that just overloaded himself into malfunction on top of my spike.”

Megatron growled. He snaked one hand to the back of Optimus’ helm and pulled him down for a savage bite right on his finial. The shock of sensation made Optimus spasm, and with instincts trained by millions of years of grappling with Megatron, his hand dropped away from Megatron’s hip and immediately slapped him on the aft.

Megatron made a surprised noise and strangled out “Optimus!” The word sounded like it had been ground through a malfunctioning chainsaw rather than a vocalizer.

“Whoops,” Optimus deadpanned. “I would offer to kiss it better if you weren’t currently stuck on top of me. What a shamefully missed opportunity.”

Megatron was silent for a split second. Then he guffawed, shaking in Optimus’ lap for almost a minute on end. Connected from array to chest as they were, Optimus could feel the way it rumbled through Megatron’s whole body. He couldn’t help but chuckle as well at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

“Alright, Optimus,” Megatron said, calming down barely enough to speak coherently. “Let’s take that shower. But I’m not going to let you do all the work.”

After a few moments to brace himself and hold Megatron extra tight to his chest, Optimus stood up, proud that he only staggered a little under Megatron’s weight. Megatron immediately dropped one leg from around Optimus’ waist and balanced his foot on the floor as well. He kept having to bounce lightly on the tip of his foot in order to keep upright.

Luckily, because of how their helms were pressed cheek to cheek in opposite directions, Megatron couldn’t see the way Optimus rolled his optics at the stubbornness of it all.

At least the feeling of Megatron’s arms clutching him so tightly was very nice.

They proceeded to make their way through their apartment, shuffling in an awkward sort of three-legged dance. Optimus attempted to walk normally, but it was nearly impossible to avoid Megatron’s leg as he hopped backwards in front of him. The result was Optimus waddling with his legs spread wide as he listened to the cadence of Megatron grunting and cursing directly in his audial… which was frequent, and occasionally joined by the sound of Optimus’ own pained exhales, because all the hopping and shuffling kept tugging at their joined interface equipment.

They actually tripped and fell halfway through the kitchen; Optimus heroically pivoted their weight so that he took the full impact of the fall on his own back, but Megatron only laughed at him and tweaked him under the chin for his trouble.

At last they made it to the wash racks. From there, it was blessedly easy to set foot in the tub one foot at a time-- first Optimus’ left, then Megatron’s right, then Optimus’ right as Megatron held onto the handrail to steady them both-- and slowly, carefully sink to the floor. Megatron twisted and turned on the solvent flow to almost maximum heat, then sighed and arched his back into the flow of liquid.

_ Told you so, _ Optimus thought. Something of his thoughts probably showed on his face and his energy field, because Megatron immediately side-eyed him indignantly. He seemed content to enjoy the hot solvent, though, and didn’t make any cutting remarks.

That didn’t last long. They both reached for the cleaning supplies and washcloths on the shelf at the same time. As their fingers closed on the same brush, their optics locked, and the traditional glaring battle of dominance began.

Optimus tugged on the handle first. “Let me clean you first.”

“No, I’m cleaning  _ you _ first. I bet you hadn’t showered even before we started interfacing.”

“I did too! I shower every day!”

“And you don’t do a very good job, I’ve seen what your back seams look like after what you call a ‘good shower.’ I’m going to take care of you right now.” And Megatron grinned and pushed Optimus onto his back, leaning forward to--

\--not move at all. Optimus hissed in alarm as Megatron’s valve continued to squeeze around his spike, and the alarming tug at the base made him immediately clutch Megatron’s hips and pull him back down.

Megatron tipped his helm back to the ceiling and groaned. “This is the worst slagging  _ joke.” _

“Megatron, it’s only been a few minutes. You have to relax and give it time.” Optimus sat up and rested his palms on Megatron’s cheeks, gently pulling his face down to look at him while his thumbs brushed over the lines beneath his optics. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

Megatron hesitated. His jaw servos tightened and relaxed repeatedly before he sighed and looked away. “Fine.”

He still grumbled when Optimus eased him onto his back and began scrubbing at the vents in his abdomen, careful not to push the bristles too deep and poke at the sensitive internal wires. Then he moved to the seams of Megatron’s hips and upper thighs with equal care, occasionally running his free hand over the metal to make sure the telltale slipperiness of lubricant and transfluid was gone.

Optimus looked up. Megatron had his helm turned away, optics dark, and his fingers were flexing against the floor in rhythmic contractions.

“Megatron, is something wrong?”

“You mean besides--” Megatron visibly cut himself off. He vented measured breaths, exactly four seconds in and out each time. Then he said in a flat monotone, “This is humiliating.” 

Optimus set the brush down and considered his response carefully. “Megatron… it was an accident. I’m not going to judge you for an involuntary bodily response. No one can control if or when our frames malfunction.”

“Can’t control it,” Megatron repeated under his breath. “Like I’m some newbuild that’s never had multiple overloads before.”

Optimus sighed and tried another route. He took a mesh cloth from the shower rack and bent over Megatron to nuzzle his cheeks. He didn’t stop until Megatron rumbled deep in his chest and turned his head back up, returning his kisses with small pecks that Optimus coaxed into deeper, open-mouthed kisses.

Megatron pulled away once Optimus started smiling into the kisses. He was still frowning, but at least he was looking at Optimus again as he bent to the task of dabbing with the warm cloth at Megatron’s array. He didn’t speak again until Megatron’s valve, the surrounding metal, and his thighs were shining pristinely.

“I’m curious,” Optimus murmured shyly. “You said you thought of me whenever you were alone?”

Megatron stirred. “Yes, I did.”

“...And did you overload thinking about anyone else? Or was it...just me?”

Megatron lifted one arm and poked at the dimples in Optimus’ cheeks from his involuntary smile. He offered a smile of his own and said, “I used to not imagine anyone in particular-- just some faceless mech that I didn’t have to think about at all. But once I started thinking of you…” His fingers slid to the curve of Optimus’ lips. “Nothing else could compare.”

Optimus kissed Megatron’s fingertips, then continued kissing up until he had Megatron’s hand pressed between his lips and the palm of his free hand. “Incomparable,” he hummed, looking directly into his lover’s optics. “That’s what I think of you, too. Always. No matter what happens.”

Megatron started squirming. “You’re getting sentimental on me,” he said with his best attempt at a cocky smirk. “Or maybe you’re just being a flatterer.”

“Me? Never.” And Optimus kissed his way up Megatron’s arm, sometimes pausing to tickle a seam with a puff of exhaust until Megatron was snorting with laughter.

He had just made his way to Megatron’s shoulder and was tickling the joint at the gap in his armor, when suddenly the callipers of Megatron’s valve loosened. They both inhaled sharply, and in an instant Optimus pulled out at the same time Megatron pushed himself away. He moaned in relief; his valve panel immediately transformed back into place and locked with an audible click.

Optimus belatedly reached for the mesh cloth and wiped at Megatron’s valve panel. “I’m assuming that you won’t be able to open that again for a while?”   
  


“No,” Megatron said, arms and legs splayed limply across the floor. “I hope you don’t mind being the receptive partner for the next week or so.”

“Week? Then you really should go see Ratchet. I don’t want to see you injured.”

“I’ll think about it.” Then Megatron pushed himself upright and shut his legs. “Enough. I’m through with being the passive one.” He grabbed the forgotten brush and tapped it against his other palm with the same dangerous intent he would have once held a warhammer.

Optimus sighed, but smiled nonetheless. “Alright, Megatron. Do your worst.”

  
  


An hour later, Optimus’ plating and seams were still tingling all over from Megatron’s vigorous cleaning treatment, which was far more thorough than necessary for a simple romp in the berth. He slid his arm underneath Megatron’s and put a hand on his abdominal plating, pulling him closer against his chest with a small grunt.

Megatron chuckled. “Still awake after how hard I ‘faced you?”

Optimus blew a trail of exhaust into the gap between Megatron’s helm and neck armor. “Just a little bit.”

His optics were offline, but he still heard the whirr of Megatron’s shoulder servo before his hand came down and petted the top of his helm. “Go to sleep, Optimus.”

Optimus nuzzled the back of Megatron’s helm. “You first.”

  
  



End file.
